Bind the Serpent
by AnnaDruvez
Summary: Kidnapped from the Dursley's Harry has more to face than Voldemort's death.... Such as LV's new interests. Rated M for later chapters. HPLMLV Wow, an update!
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: **_

**_I don't own Harry Potter or my own home. _**

_**I never invented any new professional sports or won more than five dollars in the lottery.**_

**_I am not making any money from this._**

_**Therefore, hoping to sue me for anything beyond copious amounts of sarcasm is a pointless exercise.**_

* * *

Chapter One

The day of Harry's seventeenth birthday dawned abominably bright. He opened his sleepy green eyes and blinked at the dingy wall in front of him. There was a smudge of dirt on his cheek, accenting the way his cheekbones jutted out from his emaciated face. His whole body was filthy and his clothes were rumpled beyond belief. The interesting aroma that wafted off of him indicated that he had not changed either shirt or pants in a very long time.

He pulled himself up off the bed and stared blankly at the plate someone – he assumed it was Aunt Petunia – had shoved under his door. Reaching for his glasses, he pulled them on and looked at the plate again. His stomach rolled at the eggs and bacon sitting there, and he gestured. The food shoved its way back out the door, and he flopped back down on his cot. He hadn't been able to stomach eating in a very long time, especially when it was something particularly greasy.

Petunia had spent the last few days trying to get him to eat more high-calorie food, no doubt in hopes of making sure no one thought that she'd starved him this summer. He could have told her that they wouldn't notice if she did, but he assumed she wouldn't believe him. Besides, it was much better for her to think that she was in danger from his friends than it was to reassure her and let her return to her previous behavior.

Seconds later, there was a tapping at the window and Harry jumped up to open it. A tawny barn owl landed on the sill. Harry smiled and slipped it an owl treat as he took the rolled up parchment from the bird. Noticing that it seemed to be waiting for a response, he quickly unrolled the scroll and his smile turned into a grin.

_Mr. Potter,_

_ You are hereby invited to spend the rest of your summer at Hogwarts as the guest of both myself and the staff. I urge you to keep in mind that this is a privilege that has never been extended to any other student. Mr. Shacklebolt and Ms. Tonks will arrive to pick you up at 1:30 tomorrow morning, if you accept. Please send your reply with this owl._

_Minerva McGonagall _

_Headmistress_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

It wasn't that he wanted to go back to Hogwarts. He knew that when they got him there, the members of the Order would never give him the freedom he needed to search for the Horcruxes. Still, six weeks with the Dursleys was enough to make him happy to return. He was also fairly certain that he could find some way to get around the Order, even if it meant running away again like he had the year Sirius escaped.

Smiling at the thought of leaving the Dursley's for the last time, he quickly scrawled a 'yes' on the parchment before giving it back to the owl. It hooted at him and took off. Harry watched him go for a moment, and then turned to start haphazardly throwing his things into his worn trunk.

Eventually, he was fully packed and freshly washed. So, Harry found himself with nothing else to do. He fiddled with the desk, noting how the pull on the top drawer was still loose. He smiled and debated casting a spell to repair it, but decided against fixing anything that belonged to the Dursleys. He flopped onto the cot that had been his bed for the last six years, failing to realize that he was grinning.

* * *

Harry's eyes snapped open and he glanced at the window. It was dark out, so he checked the clock. It was one minute after midnight. What had woken him up? His escort wasn't supposed to arrive for another hour and a half. But, Tonks wasn't known for keeping things straight.

He frowned as he heard a creak on the stairs and then Petunia's door opened. He heard her screeching about strangers in her house, and he jumped up to stop her. Without warning, he saw a flash of sick green light under his door. "_Avada_ _Kedavra_!" Petunia's scream abruptly cut off, and he heard screams from Vernon and Dudley that were silenced just as quickly with similar flashes of green.

Cursing himself for his stupidity and inaction, Harry stumbled backwards and scrambled to get to the wand he'd left on his desk. Just as his fingers closed around it, the door slammed open. "_Stupefy_!" The blast of red light struck him in the back, and he collapsed to the hard floor.

A black robed Death Eater stepped into the room. He was soon followed by two others. Pulling out a silver serpent, the first Death Eater grabbed Harry while the other two reached out to touch the portkey. A whispered word and the four were gone.

* * *

_Urgh. Cliffhanger. _

_Should I continue this or not? Like it? Want to burn me in effigy? Let me know!_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer:**_

**_I don't own Harry Potter and I owe way too much money on my car._**

**_I never invented any incredible new kitchen gadgets and I have no soon-to-be-deceased rich relatives._**

**_No one has sent me any anonymous – or not so anonymous – tips of the monetary variety._**

**_Therefore, hoping to sue me for anything beyond a very poor imitation of Severus Snape's trademarked Glare of Death is a waste of my not-so-valuable time._**

* * *

Chapter Two

Headmistress Minerva McGonagall paced her office restlessly. Her pointed green witch's hat was slightly askew on her head, as she kept reaching up in a vain attempt to straighten it. Her robes were also green and only slightly rumpled. She stopped and stared out the window, then raised her wand to check the time. It was now two-thirty in the morning, and Harry should have been in her office by now.

She had just started towards her fireplace, when it flared green. With an ungainly plop on the floor, Nymphadora Tonks stumbled out of the Floo connection. She pulled herself to her feet, and met the Headmistress' eyes. Her heart-shaped face was pale, and her hair - normally an obscenely bright color - was a dingy shade somewhere between brown, black and grey.

Tonks, as she preferred to be called, straightened her garish pink robes and took a deep breath. "Headmistress, we have a problem. Harry wasn't at the Dursley's when we arrived. Also, the Dursleys were d-dead." She closed her eyes and swallowed. "From what we could tell, it seems that they were hit with Avada Kedavra."

Minerva's eyes widened behind her rectangular glasses, and she inched her way into the nearest chair. The Dursleys were dead. Harry was missing. Either Voldemort had him or…. She looked at Tonks. "Check the Knight Bus. Harry escaped the Dursleys that way before. If we're lucky, he did it again."

Tonks nodded and dropped a pinch of green powder in the fireplace. The moment she was gone, McGonagall started fire calling the rest of the Order. She left the Weasley's for last, knowing that she was going to be on the receiving end of Molly's infamous temper.

* * *

Harry's eyes opened to pure blackness. He struggled to sit up, wincing as his cold and stiff body finally complied. He blinked repeatedly, hoping his eyes would adjust. He sighed after a moment and shook his head. Either they had blinded him, or there was absolutely no light in the room. Knowing Voldemort, either possibility was equally likely…. He assumed that if they had blinded him his eyes would hurt and they didn't.

Content in his assessment of his vision, he began trying to make sense of where he was. The floor under his hands was stone, he could tell that by touch at least. Slowly, he started moving around the room, mapping it in his mind. There were no windows that he could find, and the door seemed to be made of a very thick wood with steel reinforcements. He supposed he could be in a dungeon somewhere, but the only castle he knew of was Hogwarts. However, Voldemort wouldn't carry him there and the Riddle Mansion didn't look like it had a cellar from what he saw in his memories.

Deciding there was nothing more he could do at present, he settled in to wait.

* * *

No sooner had Minerva finished the last call, than the other members of the Order started popping out of the fireplace and into her office. As they settled in, she did her best to remain calm. Serenity turned out to be an impossible goal after Molly's tongue lashing, so she settled for appearing peaceful.

Once everyone was settled, the meeting began. Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, the paranoid Auror, was the first to speak. "How the devil did they find him? I thought that blood protection of his mother's was supposed to keep him safe."

Minerva nodded. "It was, but none of us realized that it would expire on his seventeenth birthday. After all, he became an adult yesterday so the protective _parental_ magic ended." She smoothed her robes. "If only I had acted sooner…."

Moody snorted and shifted his artificial leg a little to the side. "I never thought I'd say this, but that blasted Snape would have at least warned us."

The portrait of Albus Dumbledore behind Minerva seemed to wake up at this. "What do you mean he _would _have warned us? Why didn't he?"

Molly gasped as Moody was his usual blunt self. "The self-important git killed you, Albus."

The portrait nodded. "Well, of course he did." At their astonished expressions, he continued: "He only did what I told him to do. Didn't you read the note I left you, Minerva?"

McGonagall blinked. "What note, Albus?"

He sighed. "It's in your top right drawer, my dear, underneath the false bottom."

McGonagall practically dove for the desk, startling Moody into drawing his wand. He shoved it back into its sheath with no apologies, and waited for McGonagall to read the letter. His eye's scanned the room constantly, the artificial one periodically rolling up in his head in an apparent attempt to see through the back of his head.

Remus Lupin, the only member of the Order who could technically be classified as a Dark Creature, hid a smile at Moody's nervous behavior. Even here, in the most warded room in the country, Moody practiced his personal motto of 'Constant Vigilance!' The werewolf immediately started mentally chastising himself when he started wondering if Moody really could see through the back of his head, or if he just enjoyed looking at the inside of his empty eye socket. _When did I start channeling Sirius?_

Then, it occurred to Remus that Mad-Eye Moody – the man who spent years telling everyone how much he hated Snape – had just come close to wishing Snape was still with them. He made a mental note to get his hands on the Auror's flask and check it for polyjuice.

McGonagall looked up at Dumbledore's portrait, her eyes wide. "Albus, you really did order him to kill you? Why would you do such a thing?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Really, Minerva, I ordered him to kill me because he wouldn't have otherwise." At her matriarchal glare, he allowed himself a small smile. "Do you really think I wanted us to lose our best way to gather information? Besides, I was old and I knew I wouldn't make it to the end of this war. This way, Severus becomes more firmly entrenched in Voldemort's favor and can better sabotage his plans, while we can use his knowledge to plan for any contingency."

Dumbledore leaned back in the chair his painter had courteously included, smiling benevolently down at them. For once, everyone in the room debated at the same time exactly when Dumbledore had become a barmy old coot.

* * *

_Disappointed? Happy? Planning on banning my work when you take over the world? Tell me!_  



	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:**

_**I don't own Harry Potter, and I owe $28,000 in student loans.**_

_**I never invented a great new CPU and I have no intention of taking out a life insurance policy on my husband.**_

_**No money has rained down from the heavens only to land on my not-so-humble head.**_

_**Therefore, hoping to sue me for more than a cracked mug of lukewarm coffee is simply ludicrous.**_

* * *

Chapter Three

Harry – having drifted off to sleep in his cell – woke to find the door open and a hooded Death Eater standing over him. Before Harry could stop him, he found himself the victim of a full body bind. _At least I can still glare at the git. Is that Lucius Malfoy?_

The Death Eater levitated him and they maneuvered down several passages. Harry did his best to remember what path they took, however, each stone hallway looked exactly like every other stone hallway. He soon wondered if maybe they were going in circles and this was some sort of bizarre Death Eater exercise regimen. It actually made more sense than some of the contortions Aunt Petunia used to put herself through.

They finally came to a large chamber and Harry was dumped unceremoniously at Voldemort's less-than-pristine feet. At least, he assumed that they were Voldemort's feet. He was still under the body bind, and couldn't look up to confirm that it was Riddle's unclipped toenails right in front of his nose. _They look about the right shade of cadaverous white... _

Voldemort smirked as he aimed his wand at the immobilized form in front of him. His red eyes twinkled with malevolent laughter as he used his tried and true torture technique. _"Crucio!"_

It didn't take Voldemort long to get tired of watching Harry's eyes water. He was in a dilemma. He could release the boy from _Petrificus Totalus_ and give him a chance to escape, or watch him suffer while not being able to hear his lovely screams. He shook his head, and had Lucius prop Harry up against a nearby pillar.

Voldemort gestured at Lucius, and his hood disappeared. He then turned to Harry and attempted to smile pleasantly at him, knowing that Harry seemed to hate it when he was anywhere near polite. "Do you know what tonight is, Harry?"

Harry wanted to ask how he was supposed to know what tonight was when he didn't even know how long he'd been there, but the body bind held fast.

"Of course you do. How could you not know the phases of the moon with a werewolf for a friend?" Voldemort stood and paced in front of him. "Tonight is the dark of the moon." Harry wondered if the posturing was for the Death Eater's benefit. "Tonight is a special night, a magical night. Tonight, your powers become mine." He swept his arms grandly to the sides. "Tonight, I shall put an end to the ridiculous rumor that you can destroy me."

Harry rolled his eyes as Voldemort continued. "Tonight, I will show everyone that I – the Dark Lord Voldemort – am immortal and unstoppable."

He tuned Voldemort out as he wondered why he seemed so… wordy. _Tonight, I will prove that I have no limit to the number of sentences I can start with the word 'tonight.'_ _While I'm at it, I will kill you slowly with my new technique… death by boring speech. _If he'd been able to, Harry would have chuckled.

After what seemed like forever, Voldemort wound down. He turned to Lucius. "Is the chamber prepared?'

Lucius bowed, his blond hair falling forward. "Yes, My Lord."

"Did Snape deliver the poisons?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"Move our young friend to his final resting place."

"Yes, My Lord." Lucius flicked his wand and Harry was once again levitated down a maze of hallways, before being settled on a stone altar. Panicking slightly, he found himself grasping desperately at any distraction he could think of. In this case, he was wondering why it was always a stone altar. _Why not a wooden altar? Or, how about we use a glass altar? Is plastic a viable magical substance? Is melamine a type of plastic? Would plexiglass work? Or, could we use a steel altar? Steel conducts electricity, wouldn't it conduct magic, too? Doesn't it have iron in it? Didn't we learn that iron stops magic? _

He was broken out of his hysteria by Voldemort lying down next to him, naked. Then, he heard Lucius cast a spell and felt a suspicious draft… all over his body. _Tell me he isn't planning on stealing my magic that way! I really would rather he just kill me, instead. _

Lucius started chanting a long litany of Latin, taking Harry's mind off his other thoughts. He felt strange, like his magic was tingling just beneath the surface of his skin. He could feel the rage and hatred that was Voldemort's magic boiling next to him. He felt Lucius, like still water from the depths of the ocean, standing at his feet. His magic seemed to reach out and blend with the other two, twining about them into ever more complicated knots, while their magics did the same to each other.

Then, the spell ended. He discovered that he could still feel Voldemort beside him and Lucius at his feet. Had the _Petrificus_ spell not been in effect, he probably would have jumped off the altar – and through the stone ceiling – when Voldemort sat bolt upright. "Why didn't it work, Lucius? And, why do I suddenly have a connection to you?"

Lucius faltered. "I'm not certain, My Lord. I followed the directions in the book precisely as they were written…."

Voldemort stalked over to him and yanked the book away. He flipped several pages and discovered – to his horror – that Malfoy performed the spell _before_ the one he'd wanted him to cast. "You fool. You cast a marriage binding spell!" Voldemort began reading desperately, hoping there was a way to disperse the spell.

When he found no way to end the spell, he dropped the book and pointed his wand at Lucius. "_Crucio!_" It was a tie as to who was more startled when pink and red roses flew out of his wand. Voldemort turned and attempted the same curse on Harry. As Harry had been unable to see what had pelted Lucius' chest, he was stunned when a daisy nearly went up his nose.

With an inarticulate scream – which Harry couldn't help noticing was a bit girlish in pitch – Voldemort stalked out of the room, knocking over a small table full of poisons as he went. As he nearly ran down the corridor, he collided with another one of his Death Eaters. He discovered – happily – that he could still curse Macnair.

Lucius ignored the echoing screams and walked over to Harry. "This should be interesting. I wonder how 'Cissa is going to take my sudden marriage to Voldemort and you? I don't think either of us ever pictured me practicing polygamy, particularly with other men." He picked up the daisy on Harry's face and met his eyes. "If I release the body bind, will you be a good boy and not try to run off? Blink twice for yes."

Carefully, Harry blinked twice. He wasn't sure if he was going to keep the promise, but he didn't know how to get out of the dungeon maze, either. He'd much rather be able to move than stuck staring in whatever direction they pointed him. The ceilings and walls just didn't seem that interesting, so far.

"_Finite Incantatem._" Harry was happy to sit up and stretch, then try to rub the pollen out of his nostrils. Then he remembered Lucius was still standing there, and his nude form curled up defensively. Lucius sighed. "Really, Potter, what makes you think I want to look at your scrawny self? Nonetheless, I am not returning those rags that you seemed to think were clothes. You may wear this, instead."

Harry gratefully accepted Lucius' cloak and looked around him. Stone pillars surrounded the altar he was sitting on, and there were candles in a circle on the floor. Roses and daisies were everywhere. There was an overturned table on his right with broken phials and puddles of multicolored liquids surrounding it. He eyed Lucius warily, then stood and slowly made his way to examine a tapestry on the far wall.

Watching him out of the corner of his eye, Lucius picked the book up and flipped to the spell he had used. As he reread the Latin, his mind boggled. No wonder the Dark Lord was furious. He found himself debating how long it would take his new husband to realize that his minions could still cause pain to the two of them.

"What's this one?" Snapped out of his reverie, Lucius looked at the tapestry Potter was pointing to. "It's a rendition of the founding of Hogwarts. The tapestry itself is said to date to the sixteenth century, so there's little or no hope that it's accurate."

Potter nodded and examined it more closely for a few moments. Lucius was struck then by just exactly how short the boy was. There was at least a foot of cloth dragging the floor. He frowned, remembering what he looked like naked. "Didn't those muggles feed you?"

Harry shrugged at him. "Not usually. They tried to get me to eat this summer, but I was so used to not eating in their house that I just couldn't do it. It was like asking me to breathe water without gillyweed."

Lucius shook his head. That kind of abuse usually didn't happen in the Wizarding world. If not because of love, then because no abuser wanted to wake up one morning to find that his favorite punching bag could – and would – out duel him. He pondered just how foolish those muggles must have been. How had they not thought of what would happen when the boy came into his power?

He looked at Harry. He was still, staring at Lucius as if waiting for a response. Lucius raised an eyebrow at him and held out a hand. "Well, then, I imagine you must be hungry by now. Come with me and we'll find something to eat."

Lucius didn't allow himself to wonder who was more surprised when Harry stepped closer and took his hand.

* * *

_Enjoy? Want to send a Howler? Send me an owl, via a review!  
_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:**

_**I do not own Harry Potter and I have way too many credit cards. **_

_**I never invented the next great RAM chip, and I have no intention of robbing any banks.**_

_**No multi-millionaires have decided to adopt or marry me. **_

_**Therefore, hoping to sue me for more than the crust off this morning's toast is ridiculous.**_

* * *

Chapter Four

Rufus Scrimgeour stalked up the stairs and into the front entry of Hogwarts. His robes swirled behind him as he strode purposefully down the corridors and up to the gargoyle that guarded the Headmistress' office. He snagged a passing student. "What is the password, child?"

The second year Ravenclaw looked up at the Minister of Magic and fought the urge to ask if he was an Animagus. He looked so much like the image of the King of Lions in one of her old books that she nearly wanted to curtsy. "I'm sorry, sir. I don't have the password."

Scrimgeour frowned, but let her go. She stumbled back a few paces and then ran off to tell her friends about the strange man. He, meanwhile, stared angrily at the gargoyle. He crossed his arms over his chest and glanced up and down the hallway.

His eyes landed on an approaching professor. _What is her name? Spratt? Spruitt? Sprout?__Better turn on the charm. _"Ah, Professor, would you be so kind as to let me in? I need to speak with the Headmistress about a rather important matter."

Professor Sprout, warmed by his smile, drew herself up to her full diminutive height and smoothed her stained robes. She walked over with what he assumed was supposed to be feminine grace, but somehow missed graceful by a mile. "Certainly, Minister." She turned to the gargoyle. "Chocolate Frogs."

She smiled at him and fluttered her eyelashes. Scrimgeour gave a mental sigh but returned the smile, allowing charm to ooze out of every pore. He bowed. "Thank you for your help, Professor."

As he headed up the curved stairway, he had to suppress a shudder at the tittering noises he left behind him. When he made it to McGonagall's door, he paused. _How could they not report this? Are they so irresponsible?_ He shook his head and knocked.

* * *

Harry sat at a large wooden table and stared at the feast laid out in front of him. Everything he could imagine was within arms reach. The last time he'd seen a meal of this proportion, he'd been at Hogwarts. He'd never had anyone else want to feed him like he'd eaten there. 

He let his gaze wander around the strangely homey room, taking in the curtains which were drawn across a non-existent window. He wasn't certain if they were a sign that someone missed living above ground, or if they meant that the female Death Eaters wanted to leave their mark. Either way, they made the place somehow warmer and more inviting. This was, of course, in spite of the curtains being black with little silver serpents on them and the walls the same uniform grey.

He looked at Lucius, who had taken a seat opposite him. The light from the huge wood burning oven danced across him, making him look demonic in an oddly beautiful way. With a slight smirk, Lucius met his gaze. "Well, Potter? The food isn't going to eat itself."

Voldemort chose that moment to wander into the kitchen, and stared at the feast. His red eyes widened and he looked between the two. "Is this a celebration? And I wasn't invited?"

Lucius stood and bowed. "Of course you are invited, My Lord. Young Potter, here, simply hasn't had a meal in the last six weeks. So, if we are celebrating anything, it is a festival to commemorate his remembering how to eat."

Voldemort blinked, then looked at Harry like he'd grown a second – and possibly third – head. "Six weeks, you say? Why would anyone not eat for six weeks? I know that those muggles were well enough off to feed you."

Lucius answered for him. "It would appear, My Lord, they were in the habit of starving him in the summers. This summer they apparently tried to get him to eat, but their training seems to have worked too well. He couldn't stomach a bit of food while in their house."

Voldemort nodded, looking triumphant. "See, boy, this is the reason I hate muggles. They represent the worst that humanity has to offer. Can you name a single muggle who has ever been kind to you?"

Harry started to answer him, until he realized that the first person on the tip of his tongue – Mrs. Figg – was a squib, not a muggle. He wracked his brain, trying to think of anyone. Finally, he looked at Voldemort. "There were a few when I was in the muggle schools, but I can't remember their names now. Dudley drove them off soon enough, anyway."

Voldemort shook his head and settled at the head of the table. "If they are easily frightened, then they aren't important enough to matter." He glanced at Harry and sighed. "If this is to commemorate your remembering how to nourish yourself, then one would expect you to do so. Food. Now."

Harry couldn't help the slight smile that graced his face as he started loading his plate. As he did, he wondered why he was allowing them to treat him like this and, more importantly, why did they want to behave as if he were a guest instead of a prisoner. _Does it have something to do with the spell they had cast? Does it somehow make the three of us more inclined to... like each other?_

He shook his head and started eating. Whatever the reason was, the food was still good.

* * *

McGonagall looked up from her desk and smiled. The wards had – of course – alerted her the moment the Minister set foot on the property. Frankly, the only thing that worried her was why he'd taken so long. "Come in." 

Scrimgeour entered the room and frowned. McGonagall had already redecorated, making the room appear more spartan than it had when Dumbledore was in office. The only extraneous thing in the office was a piece of her family tartan hanging up behind her desk. "Headmistress, I want to know why the Ministry wasn't informed of the disappearance of Harry Potter and the murder of his family."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "Minister Scrimgeour, I assure you that we would have informed you ourselves. However, we thought that you paid more attention to the muggle authorities than you apparently do. The death of the Dursleys was headline news, after all."

He glared at her. "I am well aware that it is headline news in the muggle papers. After all, it's not every day that an entire family dies of "heart failure" within minutes of each other. What bothers me is that there was a threat to our nation's most valuable asset and no one thought to advise the Ministry of it. He has been missing for thirty hours. We might have been better able to track him, had we been informed."

Dumbledore's portrait chose that moment to stop snoring. "Ah, Minister Scrimgeour, would you care for a lemon drop?" The painted Dumbledore gestured down at a bowl on Minerva's desk. "They are quite tasty."

Minerva fought her laughter down as the Minister apparently debated between turpentine and a cleansing charm. His sense seemed to win out. "No, thank you." He turned back to McGonagall. "As for you, I knew I should have ignored all the protestations from you and from the boy. He should have been in the Ministry under twenty-four hour surveillance."

McGonagall stood up, magic swirling around her. If she were a child, someone's aunt might have inflated or a room full or dishes might have smashed. She was, scarily enough, an adult. This made it far more likely that all that added magic would come out of her wand. "Minister, I can't believe what I'm hearing from you. Have you forgotten that Harry Potter is not just some national landmark? He is a person, and a very powerful wizard. You can't just lock a person up and expect them to like it. Especially, since that person has done nothing wrong."

The Minister looked at her. "I swear to you, Minerva. If anything happens to Potter, I will hold you personally responsible."

He stalked from her office, the door slamming behind him. McGonagall sat down at her desk and tried to will her hands to stop shaking.

* * *

_Yes, Voldemort knows more about the bond than the two of them and there is a reason he's trying to convert Harry beyond the "He'd make a powerful ally," argument. Just wait and see._

_Amused? Clawing out your eyes? Tell me how it feels in a review!  
_


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:**

_**I do not own Harry Potter and know too many bill collectors by their first names.**_

_**I have not discovered a new way to turn lead into gold and I have no intention of starting a cult for money.**_

_**My tree's leaves are unfortunately not cash.**_

_**Therefore, if you sue me you can expect to receive a tattered notebook full of my ramblings.**_

_**

* * *

**_

Chapter Five

Harry would never have pictured Voldemort in a cozy study curled up under a blanket with a good book, and he wasn't. Voldemort was in a cozy study curled up under a blanket with the daily correspondence.

Every now and then, in between reading Marriage Bonds: Magically Induced Happy Homes, Harry would glance over at the hunter green couch and see Voldemort shake his head and mutter under his breath at some new idiocy. Occasionally, Voldemort would notice Harry looking at him and raise an eyebrow. He would quickly return to his reading.

In between reading his book and eyeing Voldemort, Harry would glance at Lucius. He was having a rousing game of chess against the chess pieces themselves. They were playing black and throwing insults like a group of seasoned warriors. After some internal debate, Harry conceded that the pieces of a Wizard's Chess Set could be considered veterans if they survived more than one game.

Even though he was distracted, Harry found that he was absorbing more of the book than he would have thought. Apparently, Voldemort hadn't been able to hex either Lucius or him because the creators of these spells anticipated that they would be used for arranged marriages. No one wanted any blood feuds because one spouse killed the other on their honeymoon.

Harry readily admitted to himself that he was glad that they had included that little clause.

_Another issue that is common to all marriage bonds is the encouragement of a level of trust between the subjects. They will talk to each other more civilly and honestly than they would have otherwise. They will have the urge to protect each other physically and emotionally. When outside the other bond mate's presence, they will seek each other's company after a few hours. Marriage bonds between more difficult subjects will also make certain that the bonded will feel each other's pain and – in extreme cases – will kill the spouse if the other bonded dies._

Harry looked up at Voldemort, and waited to be noticed. When he met his gaze, Harry asked, "How extreme a case do you think this bond considers us? Do you think it will kill us all if one of us dies?"

Lucius' head snapped up, the conversation now had his complete attention.

Voldemort nodded. "Since before this morning I would have given just about anything to see your corpse at my feet, I would assume that is the case. Rest assured that I now have every intention of making sure that both you and Lucius continue to survive."

Lucius blinked. "I think I can safely state that your lives now have new meaning to me, as well."

Voldemort smirked. "Lucius, are you saying you didn't realize what this marriage bond would mean?"

Lucius swallowed. "My Lord, it wasn't an area I was particularly interested in studying…." He was cut off by Voldemort's laughter.

Harry smiled slightly at their interaction, feeling relieved that he didn't have to worry about either person killing him. They might torture him, but that would depend on whether or not Voldemort decided it was worth the agony he would experience. From what he knew of Riddle, Harry doubted that he would actively seek out pain.

He returned to his book, preparing to read for at least a few more hours before bed. He had just been distracted by wondering where he was going to sleep tonight, when the door to the study opened. He turned just in time to watch Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange enter.

Narcissa's arrival was a study in grace. The tall blond practically floated into the room. She was in dark blue robes at the moment, which only served to emphasize her pale hair and skin. Her makeup was expertly done, and she looked every bit the rich and influential woman.

By contrast, Bellatrix Lestrange seemed to have no time for the feminine niceties. Her thin face reflected her time in Azkaban, and told the tale of someone who didn't concern herself with health. Her dark hair – once a shining curtain – was now dull and ill cared for. Her only gracefulness was that of a predator that is looking for the telltale twitch of prey.

Bella's face lit up in a beautiful smile at the sight of her Lord. "Master, we have fantastic news for you. The Ministry has seen fit to release the Malfoy estates and monies to Narcissa because she was 'considerate' enough to show them that she didn't carry a Dark Mark. We still have all funding we need."

Voldemort quirked an eyebrow at Bellatrix, and turned his gaze on her sister. "Narcissa, your timely intervention is most welcome."

Narcissa curtsied and turned her gaze towards her husband, nearly missing the prone figure on the floor. Her eyes widened and she jerked her gaze back to him. "My Lord, have you tamed your nemesis as a pet so that he may sit at your feet?"

His lips twitched into a smirk. "Let's say that we have had a meeting of the minds and leave it at that." He spotted Bella's hand moving for her wand. "I wouldn't do that, my dear. I am rather enjoying this little truce."

Bellatrix begged. "My Lord, please let me play with him."

Voldemort frowned. "I said no, Bellatrix."

Harry stood and inched closer to Voldemort as Bellatrix frowned at him. "Then at least allow me to remove his troublesome presence from our lives, My Lord."

Voldemort glared at her and then turned to Lucius. "Is there some reason that I put up with her?"

Lucius eyed Bellatrix as she apparently realized she had gone too far and began groveling at Voldemort's feet. "Perhaps it is because she cowers so well?"

"I suppose that could be the reason." Voldemort stood, gathering his letters. "Come, Harry. Let's leave Lucius to renew his relationship with his wife and sister in law. I am sure they do not need our interference for that." He turned to Lucius. "We'll be just down the hall."

Lucius nodded and watched them leave, then turned his eyes to the two women in front of him. _Let the inquisition begin._

* * *

Voldemort waited until they were in the parlor before letting his eyes settle on Harry. "Well done. I expected you to try to assault her with your bare hands." 

Harry shrugged. "I really didn't want to have to deal with a _Crucio_ today."

Voldemort's eyes widened for a second, and then he chuckled. He gestured to a faded burgundy couch and reclined in an old, high-backed, royal blue arm chair. Both had seen better days. "Sometimes, Potter, you sound dreadfully Slytherin." His gaze turned thoughtful. "Would you have attacked her if your wand had been next to you?"

Harry pondered this. "Probably." He sighed and plopped down with his book. "Do you think they're going to wind up dueling in there?"

Voldemort smirked. "I have every faith in Lucius' ability to handle any situation." He winked at Harry. "But, I have no doubt that Narcissa is the most infuriating woman in all of Britain. This will be interesting."

Harry lips twitched into a smile.

* * *

The pitch and tone of Narcissa's voice could probably be heard across all of Europe. Lucius cringed one of his Lord's expensive crystal decorations – he refused to call them knick knacks – shattered against the wall behind him. Perhaps this should have been handled a bit more delicately. "My dear, I understand that this is a shock…." 

Her eyes widened in absolute fury. "A _shock!_ You promised him you'd follow him to the death, not that you'd grant him _le petit mort _personally and on a nightly basis!"

Lucius backed around a couch, trying to keep the furious Narcissa and an oddly calm Bellatrix in sight at all times. "Cissa, there's no need to be crude about it. It's for the good of the cause, after all. The bond does include Potter, and that means that we've won. The rest of this war is going to feel completely anti-climactic to me."

He couldn't believe his wife actually growled. "Anti-climactic? This war isn't anti-climactic! You try marrying the rich, debonair, heir to the House of Malfoy, and then discovering that he's perfectly happy to live without sex for months at a time. _That's_ anti-climactic."

He didn't know what stung worse: where she'd slapped his cheek or his pride. "Darling, I wasn't exactly referring to that kind of climax." He tried to ignore Bellatrix's deranged laughter in the corner. "I'm just saying that this war will be pitifully easy."

Narcissa glared at him. "You are certainly pitiful, you ungrateful, ravening, foolish, deceitful, inhumane, frigid, bastard!"

Lucius glared, and then forced himself to speak calmly. Alienating the woman who had control of his fortune was not a good idea. "Narcissa, I really had no choice on this bond. It was a simple accident." He sat down on the edge of the couch. "I wouldn't have entered into this if I had been given the chance to make the decision."

She seemed to deflate, settling onto the seat next to him. Her head came to rest on his shoulder, and he stroked her hair. "But, you're mine. All these years, I was so sure that I at least had exclusive rights to your bed…. What you did at those Revels was just for fun, I was your true lover."

"You still are, Cissa."

Neither of them noticed Bellatrix leaving.

* * *

_Hmmm...? Bellatrix...? I wonder what she's going to do? Where's Harry going to sleep tonight? And is Cissa going to stay calm for long? Especially once Lucius' relationship with the other two gets going?_

_If anyone is interested, 'le petit mort' is the phrase the French use to refer to an orgasm. Literally, it translates as: 'the little death.' I just couldn't picture Narcissa screaming about orgasms in English. Somehow, the French seems less crude.  
_

_ Jumping up and down in excitement? Planning on hiding away from the world for the next ten years? Tell me about it!  
_


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**

_**I don't own Harry Potter and I have way too many bills to list.**_

_**I have not invented a foolproof method of predicting the stock market and I have no intention of selling my body parts on the black market.**_

_**If I feed my feline paper, the output is unfortunately not cash.**_

_**Therefore, if you sue me you can expect a half empty bag of cat treats as payment.**_

_**

* * *

**_

Chapter Six

The Burrow was unnaturally quiet. No one was shrieking or screaming about this or that perceived sibling injustice. No one was wondering where her missing jumper was. If anyone asked, the nonexistent neighbors would have said no one was home. This was not the case.

McGonagall was sitting in the living room, on the Weasley's threadbare sofa. Her hair was unkempt, and her robes were rumpled to the point of Ginny thinking that they were made of that strange wrinkly fabric muggles sometimes wore. Her tea, an excellent variety of Molly's own design, was growing cold on the table. Every now and then, she would pick an imaginary speck of dust off her robes.

Moody, in a relatively good humor, was standing in a nearby corner and occasionally commenting on how far along old You-Know-Who must be in brainwashing Harry. He completely ignored Minerva's pleading glances, and would wax poetically about those he'd found on raids. He was rather graphic, and Ginny was certain that she'd have nightmares until they found Harry.

Molly could be heard – and readily identified – by the sounds coming from the kitchen. She'd been cooking for almost the entire time Harry was gone, two days. In fact, she was the reason everyone was here. Arthur had taken one look at the amount of food she'd made and called for emergency gastric systems. He had had no doubt that it would go bad with only his fellow Weasleys to eat it.

Lupin and Tonks were sharing a chair. If Molly hadn't been so obsessed with cooking at the moment, they would have been on the receiving end of her temper for setting a bad example in front of the children. As it was, they were left to cuddle and comfort as best they could. Tonks' hair was a dusty shade of black at the moment, which Ginny supposed was to reflect her mood.

Even the twins weren't up to their usual antics. They hadn't passed anyone a canary cream since they'd arrived. They seemed to be sitting, side by side on the floor, saying absolutely nothing to anyone. Ginny, knowing that they sometimes spoke in ways that didn't include words, found herself wondering if maybe they were hatching some glorious plan to rescue Harry. She knew that they had the brains to pull if off, even if they didn't get the test scores their mother had wanted.

The person of most concern to Ginny at the moment was her father. After his initial calls to the others, he'd vanished upstairs to her parents' room. He hadn't been seen or heard from in hours. She hoped he didn't plan on doing anything… rash.

She was sitting by the fireplace, watching the others, when Kingsley Shacklebolt came barreling out of the Floo. She fell to one side, a bit miffed that he didn't even apologize for nearly trampling her. His next words stopped her cold, though.

"The Dark Mark's up all over London!" Everyone in the room turned to look at him in horror. He quickly elaborated. "It doesn't seem that anyone was hurt, but the Obliviators are having a hell of a time trying to reach all the muggles. I swear, half of muggle London saw it tonight."

Ginny ran upstairs. Her father may not want to face the world, but he was pretty good with an Obliviate and it sounded like they needed him.

* * *

Bellatrix, having just returned to the hideout from another little excursion, walked into her small room. She and Rodolphus hadn't been able to share a room since they'd left Azkaban, it just didn't feel right. It didn't help that he seemed incapable of fulfilling his duties as her husband, either. But, as that gave her more privacy than she'd ever dreamed of having, she was fine with it…. At least, that's what she told herself.

Here, in her private sanctuary consisting of a room the size of a middle class bathroom, she could be herself. If she felt like hexing her small bed, then it was her business. If she broke her tiny desk into kindling and started a fire on the unadorned stone floor, no one else would either know or care.

As it was, she did none of these things tonight. She merely settled on her bed and pulled her diary out from under her pillow. It was an unremarkable little book by appearance, with creamy pages bound in red leather. When she opened it, she did so with the reverence of a family matriarch who was first showing her grandchildren the letters she and her husband wrote back and forth during courtship. Her smile lit up her face as she stared at the pages in front of her, lending it a bizarre beauty.

In the beginning of the book were pictures of Tom Riddle from his Hogwarts year books and school events. Toward the middle was clipping after clipping of Lord Voldemort's impressive mentions in the Daily Prophet and other newspapers. When she'd returned after his resurrection, she'd added a sketch she'd drawn of how he looked now. The only color in the sketch was where she'd used blood to fill in his eyes. She was still a little disappointed that her spell hadn't kept it red, instead of turning brown.

She looked at the sketch and frowned, visions of Potter and Voldemort dancing in her head. Slowly rocking back and forth, a quiet muttering came from her mouth. It increased in volume, until the words were clear. "He's mine. Potter can't have him. He's mine. Potter can't have him. He's mine. Potter can't have him."

She realized she was speaking out loud when her voice rose to nearly a shout. Giving a tiny giggle, she covered her mouth with her hand and looked around. Seeing no one to chastise her for making a scene, she closed the book and began preparing for bed.

* * *

Lucius, looking somewhat bedraggled, walked into the parlor where Voldemort and Harry were still sitting. He glanced at the nearby clock and shook his head. "Potter, it's almost one in the morning. Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Harry shrugged. "No one's told me where my bed is, yet." He glanced behind Lucius. "Where's Narcissa, anyway?"

Lucius sighed. "I convinced her to go home. It would look strange if she didn't live in the house she fought so hard for at the Ministry, now wouldn't it?" He frowned and looked between Harry and his Lord. "What _are_ we going to do about the sleeping arrangements?"

Voldemort yawned. "I suppose we're going to share my room. I have no desire to find out if the bond will disturb my slumber because it feels the next bedroom over simply isn't close enough proximity. Besides, my bedroom is the only one with a bed that will fit the three of us."

Harry's lips twitched. "Well, you certainly need your beauty sleep. When was the last decade that you got some, anyway?"

Lucius was caught mid-yawn and startled into laughter. Voldemort, as quick as ever, fired off a stinging hex at Harry. Harry was quicker, which Lucius really had come to expect after all their encounters with him.

Harry, however, stopped and looked at the sofa he'd been sitting on. He couldn't help but chortle at the pile of nasturtiums that was where he had been. Even Voldemort's lips quirked a bit. Lucius grinned. "Next time I forget a birthday or anniversary, I think I'll just curse Harry until I get the appropriate flower."


	7. Interlude

**Disclaimer the First:**

_**I do not own Harry Potter, nor do any of my personalities.**_

_**I never wrote the Great American Novel, and none of my family acknowledges my rightful claim to all their income.**_

**_I am not made out of money, be it paper or coin._**

_**Therefore, calling your lawyers is an act worthy of the Bethlem Royal Hospital. **_

**Disclaimer the Second:**

**_This is a semi-crude scene where boys will be boys when talking about sex._**

_**This particular section isn't drastically important to the plot, so skip if you want.**_

_**

* * *

**_

Interlude – Gossipy Young Boys

Evan Rosier strode into the Grand Dining Hall with the air of a man who believed the world waited for his every word. His once overly feminine face had been weathered by his years in Azkaban, resulting in features not unlike an orthopedist's pet skeleton. He had always been tall – when compared to anyone except Hagrid – and his thinness added an almost comical emphasis to his height. Anyone who knew him, however, never mentioned his size. Mostly for fear of what he could and would do with his agile wandwork. Rosier was a duelist of the highest caliber.

He wandered across the room, heading for an empty table. He muttered his order to the heavy wood surface, and breakfast appeared for his consumption. As he ate, a group of younger Death Eaters settled at the table behind him. He was about to tell the raucous group to shut up or they wouldn't live to be old Death Eaters, when he realized what they were discussing. It took everything he had not to turn around, but he wanted to hear what the group had to say without interference.

The first person he heard was laughing. "I'm telling you, I heard it straight out of Malfoy's wife. The Dark Lord has taken Lucius as his. Apparently he's been trying to sneak his way into our Lord's bed ever since they were children. Apparently, he hasn't been able to get it up for Narcissa since Draco was born."

The second Death Eater chuckled, but kept his voice at barely over a whisper. "That's not how I heard it. I heard that he's getting his jollies with Harry Potter. Can you believe it?"

"That's all right, but I think what I heard is more likely. I heard that our Master plans on making his own harem." There was a bit of a creak as the owner of the third voice leaned back in his chair. "You heard me. He'll have hundreds of nubile young men and women at his disposal."

"That's absolutely ridiculous. First, our Master isn't gay. If he was, would he enjoy seeing us do all those muggles? Second, Malfoy obviously managed to get it up at least once or twice for a girl. I heard he was voted 'Most Likely to Sire His Own Nation' when he was in school. Third, our Lord wouldn't even think of buggering Potter. After all, if he's spent this long trying to kill the brat, I doubt he's going to change his mind because the boy 'has beautiful eyes.'" The fourth Death Eaters voice went higher in a poor imitation of a teenage girl towards the end of his speech. It was back to normal when he added, "Besides, we shouldn't even be talking about this. It's our Master's choice as to what he does and doesn't do."

While his logic seemed sound, the first Death Eater wasn't going to have it. "Well, who says that he is looking at the muggles when we're playing with them? For all we know, he's watching our bums. As for Malfoy, reputation isn't everything. He could have dated them all while having his boy toys on the side. Potter, well, everything with Potter could just be repressed sexual attraction."

The second Death Eater laughed, while Rosier rolled his eyes towards the stone ceiling. "'Repressed sexual attraction?' Are you trying to tell me that our Master took one look at baby Potter while he was in his cradle and said, 'Damn, that's sexy. I better kill it?'"

The third one took a loud swig of his drink, and added. "We all know how hard it is to keep a secret at Hogwarts. If Lucy was more interested in danglies than bumps, we'd have known it by half way through third year."

The fourth one sighed at how they were ignoring his admonishment about discussing the Dark Lord's sex life. "Guys, can we just change the subject?"

Rosier shook his head and stood. The four realized who was sitting there and stared up at him with mixed expressions of awe and horror. "Gentlemen, I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. My name is Evan Rosier. Who were you again?"

They quickly stammered out their names, and Rosier listened to their voices to determine who had spoken which words. _They can't be far past twenty. _ "Thank you."

As he turned to leave, they breathed a sigh of relief. He let his smile touch the corner of his lips as he faced them again. "One last thing…."

He relished their screams as his well aimed curses hit the first three. He quirked an eyebrow at the fourth, "You were right, they shouldn't have been discussing his private matters…. _Crucio._"

* * *

_Boys will be boys, right? Sorry if I don't update much this weekend. I'm studying for a Final next week. My crazy college does five week courses... For an A.S. _

_Generally, expect a week of heavy updates and a week or two of slow updates, repeated ad nausium.  
_


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:**

_**I do not own Harry Potter, and I live in my own little world. **_

_**Money is not my object, thus I am tragically poor.**_

_**The moral of the story being: even Lawyers can't get blood from either stone or turnip.**_

_**

* * *

**_

Chapter 7:

Harry woke to the heavy scent of fresh brewed coffee and buttery croissants. He sat up on the hunter green satin sheets and yawned. His eyes traveled the room – more grey stone interrupted sporadically by wall hangings and rugs – then stood to walk over to the small table where Voldemort and Lucius sat conversing. Lucius smiled, taking in Harry's rumpled hair and borrowed ankle length sleep shirt. "Did you sleep well, Potter?"

"Yes, thank you." Trying not to focus on his relief that all they did _was_ sleep, Harry picked up a croissant and curled up in the unoccupied seat next to Voldemort. Riddle, ever the perfect host, handed him a glass of orange juice. Taking a sip, he glanced around. "Does any room in this place have a window? I'm getting a little tired of staring at fire-lit grey stone all day."

Voldemort chuckled. "And, what makes you think you can escape?"

Harry blinked at him after nearly choking on his pastry. "Escape? Even if I did escape this blasted bond would bring me back. I _did_ read that book you gave me."

Lucius smiled as Voldemort's chuckle upgraded to full blown laughter. "I'm glad you realize that. I'd hate to have to deal with chasing you all over the countryside because you were too stubborn to listen."

Harry sighed. "So, do we have windows?"

Voldemort, having sobered a bit, shook his head. "I'm afraid that this complex is completely underground, Potter. I couldn't have to order running around looking in windows to find me, now could I? And I, of all people, know better than to trust a Fidelius Charm."

Harry nodded, not a bit surprised that he wouldn't want to trust his life to someone else's hands. "All right, there are no windows. Is there anywhere I can get some fresh air? Though I'm staying with a large number of Slytherins right now, _I'm_ not used to dungeons."

Lucius looked at his Master. "We can't keep letting him wear our clothes. Perhaps we should take him somewhere he won't be recognized and get him some?..." He frowned. "Though, I must admit that I don't know of anyone who wouldn't know his scar."

Voldemort snickered. "For once, muggle ignorance works for us instead of against us. I somehow doubt that anyone in muggle London would recognize the boy. It should be a simple matter of purchasing ready-mades at one of their department stores."

Lucius smiled. "My Lord, that's a brilliant idea. And, it will allow us to test the limits of this bond. Shall I prepare to take him out?"

Voldemort nodded. "I need to see to a matter with Rosier. It appears that he hexed four of our younger members and no one wants to tell me why."

Harry looked at him. "But, I thought that cursing the inferiors was just something that Death Eaters did?"

Voldemort's smile turned malevolent as his eyes narrowed. "I torture my inferiors, Harry. However, they do not do so without _my_ permission."

Harry nodded.

* * *

Rosier walked into Voldemort's throne room and bowed before his Lord's stone throne. "I have come as you commanded, Master."

Voldemort raised his eyes about the room. "Leave us." The other Death Eaters filed out quickly but Voldemort, feeling dramatic this morning, decided to wait a few extra seconds to see if Rosier fidgeted. He sighed when he couldn't find a reason to hex him right then and there. "Rosier, would you like to explain why you were cursing our younger recruits?"

Rosier frowned. "I found their commentary on your personal business to be offensive, My Lord. I hexed them as a reminder that they should show you respect both in and out of your blessed presence."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed to tiny red slits. "I am the one who dispenses justice, Rosier. However, I will overlook your proactivity on this one occasion. Now, what were they saying?"

Rosier resisted the urge to ask if "proactivity" was really a word and, if so, in what language. He confined his report to the speculations about his Master engaging in sexual acts with Lucius Malfoy and Harry Potter. His lower jaw did begin to hover at something approaching ground level at his Lord's next words. "Well, that may occur in the future but I agree that it was none of their business. Do you find this so amazing? Am I not permitted an active romantic life?"

Rosier swallowed, thinking quickly. "Of c-course you are, My Lord. I am simply amazed at the brilliance of using your wiles to seduce Potter to your side, thereby neutralizing him." He knew he was laying it on thick, but Voldemort had always liked his ego stroked in the past. "I would never have dreamed of such an… insidious… solution. It truly is worthy of the Heir of Slytherin."

Voldemort smiled. "That's enough, Rosier. Even I can recognize it when you go overboard. Why don't you go fetch those young friends of yours and we can have a little fun with some experimental curses?"

When Rosier's skeletal face lit up with a smile, some said it made him look like the image of Death on his Tarot card. They were right.

* * *

Lucius, meanwhile, was standing in the middle of Harrods in a pair of fashionable black slacks and an elegant silk shirt. Next to him, Harry looked a little incongruous in the sleep shirt he'd been wearing that morning. Lucius seemingly didn't notice the stares they received from the passersby, but Harry found himself wanting to drop through the floor in embarrassment.

No sooner had they arrived in the young men's department, than a concerned employee walked over. Her large blue eyes met Harry's, apparently asking if he needed help from the authorities, while she asked Lucius if they needed more mundane help with the clothing.

Lucius correctly interpreted the look and led her off to the side. "Ma'am, you have no idea how much help I need. My brother's house burned down last night leaving my nephew there as the only survivor. I have never had the responsibility for a child before and, even though he's already a teenager, I haven't the foggiest notion of what I should be purchasing for him. I know he needs clothing and the like, but I could use your suggestions as to what labels would be best."

Her heart seemed to melt at his sorrowful request, and Harry soon found himself in a whirlwind of activity. He tried on jeans, dress pants, casual slacks, shirts of all variety, shoes, belts, even underwear. He was more than a bit embarrassed at how much the woman handled him in order to check the fit of the clothes she was suggesting. Lucius didn't seem concerned, though, so he let it pass.

After they were done, the clerk recommended several other places for Lucius to get the things a growing boy needs. Things like video games, computers, school supplies and the like. When they walked out of the store, Lucius practically shoved the list she'd written out at Harry. "Do you want any of this?"

Harry glanced over it and shook his head. "What's the point? None of this works in a magical environment, anyway."

Lucius gave a relieved sigh. "Thank, Merlin. Are we done with our outing for the day, then?"

Harry smiled at him. "Not quite. It's almost lunch time and I'm hungry."

Lucius sighed again. "I suppose it would by hypocritical to complain about feeding you after I spent most of yesterday ranting about those muggles, wouldn't it? So, in light of that, I shall not complain." Harry laughed as he stuck his nose in the air and flipped his hair over his shoulder. Lucius glanced around. "I don't suppose you know a muggle place to eat, do you?"

Harry shook his head. "Not a clue. Why don't we go that way and try the first place we find?" Harry pointed off to the left and, at Lucius' nod, they went.

* * *

_For those who don't realize, Chapters 1 and 2 are the first day. Chapter 3 is the overnight period between days one and two. (It is a bit out of chronological order. Voldie's breakfast with Harry is happening in the early morning. The Minister meets with Minerva approximately five hours later.) Day two runs through chapter 6. The interlude is set at breakfast of day 3. _

_Keep in mind that the reason Harry was able to stay awake from the bonding until the end of Chapter 6 is that he was asleep for most of day one. Really, what else is there to do in a pitch black cell?_

_Sorry about the rhyme on "stone throne." I just couldn't help myself._


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:**

_**I do not own Harry Potter, though I am starting to think he owns me. **_

_**I have no money, and am living on a steady diet of books and paper. **_

_**Therefore, all your sneaky lawyer will manage to acquire for you is my very own battered copy of the Sorcerer's Stone.**_

_**(Sadly the package will include my arms, as he'll have to cut them off to get it.)**_

* * *

Chapter 8 – Day 3 into 4

Harry smiled as they entered the small, darkly-lit restaurant. The décor was unimaginative, consisting of paper lanterns and red paint. The tables were covered in red checkered tablecloths and had paper place mats. He smiled up at Lucius, thinking it was wonderful.

Lucius, meanwhile, was wondering why the universe had created restaurateurs with Molly Weasley's sense of style. Wasn't one of her punishment enough already? He was absolutely certain that, should any of his allies spot him either entering or leaving this kitschy establishment, he would have to commit suicide to restore the Malfoy family honor. As this would leave Draco without a steadying influence in his life, he found the possibility totally unacceptable. "Harry, are you certain you want to eat… here?"

Harry laughed and led him to a table. "Absolutely. Isn't it great? It reminds me of the Weasley's." He settled into a chair. "I never had Chinese before, but the Dursley's did and it smelled delicious."

Lucius was startled to realize that he suddenly wished he could resurrect the Dursleys for the sole purpose of giving each of them a slow, torturous death. He sighed and sat down, promising himself that he would burn his clothes when they returned home. They ordered their food, and sat sipping their drinks while waiting for it to arrive.

Once they started eating, Lucius found himself having to duck several times as Harry attempted to master the chopsticks. He opened his mouth times to reprimand him, but then took one look at the determination on Harry's face and found he couldn't. Harry wasn't thinking about the Dursley's, or Voldemort, or even what everyone at Hogwarts was doing. He was just being Harry, and Lucius couldn't bring himself to shatter that.

He knew that his feelings on the subject were from the bond, but he was surprisingly unconcerned about it.

Finally, Harry excused himself to use the loo. Lucius decided that he didn't need someone to watch him in there, and let him go on his own.

* * *

Harry had just finished washing his hands in the dilapidated sink, when the person who'd been in the stall all this time stepped out. He glanced up just in time to see Lupin standing there, staring at him in shock. Harry wasn't sure who was the more surprised but, when Lupin reached for him, he ran out of the loo and straight to Lucius. "We need to leave now." 

Lucius raised an eyebrow at him, and then spotted Lupin coming towards them. "I see your point."

He dropped some bills on the table, and they darted out the front door with Lupin in close pursuit. Turning down an alley, they discovered a dead end piled with heaps of trash. There were doors to either side of them, and he debated using an _alohomora_ when he heard a noise behind them.

Lucius turned to see Lupin standing in the mouth of the alley, and drew his wand in preparation for combat. Lupin raised his own wand and had just opened his mouth, when Harry grabbed Lucius' hand and Lucius felt like he was being sucked through a pinhole.

He was not amused to find himself standing in a puddle surrounded by miles of moor. At least there was no one around to notice that his pants legs were covered by muck. It was undignified.

Lucius sighed and looked at Harry, pleased to see a bit of chagrin on the boy's down turned face. After a moment, he let his arm settle around the Harry's shoulders. "I am glad to see you have enough sense not to try and reason with them. I really can't see them welcoming you home while bonded to the two of us."

Harry nodded. "I know. I just wish that I could explain everything to them…."

Lucius smirked. "Well, I may be wrong, but I suppose we could ask the Dark Lord if you could owl them." He could just picture the looks on their faces when they learned the truth. "Though, I really wish I could be there when you tell them."

Harry looked up and saw the humor in Lucius' eyes, pictured McGonagall's response, and started laughing. It took him several minutes to get the image of her mouth working like a fish out of his head.

Lucius smiled. "Now, when did you learn to apparate?"

Harry shrugged, "Not a clue. I just knew I didn't want the two of us to be there, and here we are."

* * *

McGonagall sat at her desk, staring at Lupin. Someone coming on the scene suddenly might assume that she was horrified to have such a shoddily dressed man in her office. No, the truth of the matter was that she was terrified at the thought of Harry and Voldemort aligned together. She would have consigned Harry to the darkest of hells first. 

She was unaware that he considered living with the Dursley's to be decent preparation for such a fate. She also didn't know that Harry had become fairly certain that the entire family was made up of demons - bent on destroying him - by the time he'd started his second year. Still, Dumbledore had wanted him to stay there so he'd tried to find something good in the three… and failed miserably.

Moody, an ever present shadow in her office these days, snorted. "Voldemort's torturers must be getting better. I would've sworn it would take longer than this." He took a swig from his flask.

Lupin plopped down into a chair. "Well, it didn't…. I still can't believe he just ran from me. And, he ran to Lucius Malfoy of all people." He buried his head in his hands. "This can't be happening, Minerva. Harry Potter was supposed to fight Voldemort to the end, not end up helping him."

McGonagall nodded, sadly. "We think we know where they're hiding now. I was going to call an Order meeting tonight to plan an attack."

Lupin nodded. "We'll do that anyway. We need to get Harry away from there and to St. Mungo's as soon as possible."

* * *

Bellatrix watched Harry and Lucius enter Voldemort's rooms, sparing only a passing curiosity as to why they were covered in mud. Her mind was in overdrive, working to find a solution that would keep her in her Lord's graces. He'd forbidden her to harm the brat, but he hadn't said anything about….

* * *

Harry woke up starving. He glanced to either side of him, noting that both Voldemort and Lucius looked sound asleep. _Well, it's not like I don't know my way to the kitchen._ He slipped carefully out of the bed, grabbed a robe and headed down the maze of hallways. 

Arriving at the kitchen, he set about making himself a snack. As the toast browned, he wondered what Hermione would say about Voldemort being the only wizard in Britain that apparently didn't like having house elves around. He supposed she'd be astonished for only a few moments before going on about, 'Well, if even _he_ can see it….' He supposed telling her that it was for security reasons would make no difference. He fought of his laughter and started buttering his toast.

He was glad he'd asked Voldemort about sending a letter to his friends earlier. No sooner than he'd asked, than Lucius had been sent to procure an owl and Voldemort had handed him parchment and quill. He gave Harry one warning not to reveal their location, and hadn't even tried to read the letter when Harry finished it. He wondered if there would be a reply.

Harry wasn't aware how safe he had come to feel here, until he was hit by a _stupefy_ from behind. As he slid into blackness, he acknowledged that he would have reacted a bit faster just a day or two ago.

* * *

_Well, I looked though every bit of source material I could find, and nothing says Voldemort has no eyelids. If anyone knows of a location that I missed, feel free to enlighten me. (Please include page and paragraph numbers.) _

_Also, IF Voldemort has no eyelids, then he has to have some way of moistening his eyes. (I have found nothing stating he has scales, and a scale over the eye is how most snakes get away with not having any.) Some lizards lick their eyes to moisten them, but I doubt Voldemort has a tongue quite that prehensile… If he does, all I can say is: "Wow."_

_Oh, for ease of timekeeping, I'm going to begin noting the days on the Chapters. Just so I don't have to note that again._


	10. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:**

_**I do not own Harry Potter, and he needs to stop asking me to do so.**_

_**I have no money, and am wondering when the bank will notice this.**_

_**Therefore, any attempt by your lawyers to acquire my nonexistent money will result in their deaths from overexertion.**_

_**I am sorry to say that I probably will not mourn them, either.**_

* * *

Chapter 9 – Day 4

_Dear Hermione,_

_I know that everyone is (words scribbled out) more than a little upset about my disappearance. I want to tell you that I am fine. Believe it or not, they're feeding me regularly and I get to sleep in the nicest bed I've ever been in. I didn't think that there were beds more comfortable than the ones at Hogwarts._

_At any rate, the reason I'm fine – and that you'll hear about me running from Remus – is that Lucius miscast a spell. He was supposed to be stealing a little of my power for himself and the rest for Voldemort. (They were using some "precursor" spell to make the spell transfer to two people instead of one…. Don't ask me, Tom designed it and the explanation was way beyond me.)_

_So, he cast the first spell, and then turned to the wrong page in the spell book. He went to something like 245 instead of page 254. So, instead of stealing my magic, he bound us all with Marriage Bonds. I've learned way too much about them to include everything in this note, but Ron should know enough to fill you in as it's a "pureblood thing." _

_The short version, to explain why I ran from Remus, is that I cannot be separated from these two for more than a few hours without extreme agony and an insistent craving to find them. I somehow doubt that Remus would have listened to me instead of grabbing me and dragging me to Hogwarts like some small baggage who didn't know anything._

_So, I ran. Can you blame me? _

_The owl will stay with you if you want to reply. Lucius says that it's spelled so that tracking charms won't work and it would be amusing to see the results if you tried. (I didn't ask what would happen, but I wouldn't do it!) _

_I will (hopefully) see you again,_

_Harry Potter-Malfoy-Riddle_

* * *

Hermione Granger smiled at the sun. It was warm, and for a minute she allowed herself to forget everything. She didn't feel guilty for it, as she knew that she'd burn out if she didn't relaz every now and then. She stretched, and sat up from where she'd been lying on the grass. She could see the Weasley boys playing Quidditch in the field next to the house, and the motherly Mrs. Weasley was busily wiping the windows clean. 

She had become quite used to owl post over the years, so the mere presence of the owl that landed next to her didn't faze her a bit. He looked every bit the noble beast, and there was a Malfoy crest on a small band on its left leg. Shaken by the crest, she took the parchment from the owl and read it once, then once again. Her face pale, she went to go ask Ron some very pointed questions.

* * *

Molly Weasley had just begun making lunch when Hermione and Ron walked into the room. "We need to talk to the Order." 

Molly took one look at the two and wiped her hands on a towel. "Why would you need to do that, dears?" Her serene face spoke of a near overdose of calming potion.

Hermione sighed, knowing she was about to shatter her peace. No matter how many drugs Mrs. Weasley had downed, she didn't think they'd stop this from getting through. "I've just had a letter from Harry, Mrs. Weasley and it seems that he's been Marriage Bonded to both Lord Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy."

The potions wanted Mrs. Weasley calm. Mrs. Weasley's emotions, however, wanted her temper and worry gauge to hover at roughly the same level as the moon. The combination resulted in the only possible place between the two. She fainted.

* * *

Voldemort awakened to the feeling that something was horribly wrong. He glanced about and noticed the missing Harry. He also saw that Lucius had woken with the same feeling. "Where is young Potter, Lucius?" 

Malfoy glanced at him. "I'm not certain, My Lord." He stood and started dressing. "With your permission, I will search for him."

Voldemort nodded. "You may use any means to discover his location, Lucius. You have full authorization to interrogate any Death Eaters you come across."

Lucius nodded and left as Voldemort began dressing.

Lucius hadn't gone more than three paces down the hallway when he ran into Bellatrix. He stopped and – knowing this was probably a bad idea – asked her if she knew where Potter was. He was disappointed to find that she didn't have a clue.

* * *

Harry woke to see a very familiar ceiling. He blinked his eyes and wondered if maybe he had dreamed the whole thing. Then, he felt the peculiar tugging at his psyche and sighed. No, he hadn't dreamed it and apparently Voldemort was upset about his going missing. He turned his head to the side and blinked at McGonagall. "How long have I been here?" 

She frowned, clearly hoping his first words would be different. "You've been in the Hospital Wing a little over three hours, Mister Potter." She eyed him as if he might leap from the bed and attack her. "Now, would you mind telling me why you ran from Remus and why you suddenly decided to return?"

Harry twitched, feeling a small slice of pain go through his midsection. "I ran from Remus because I knew he wouldn't listen to me, and I didn't _choose_ to come here. Someone ambushed me and this is where I woke up."

McGongall's frown deepened. "Mister Potter, why would you want to stay there? Or are you as silly a child as Severus always insisted?"

Harry sighed. "See? I knew you wouldn't want to listen to me. You want to pass judgment first and then have me justify myself. Well, I won't do it." He glared at her. "If you want to know anything about me from now on, you will have to ask me civilly and not act as if I am still a first year. Are we clear?"

Minerva had just opened her mouth to speak when Arthur Weasley came bursting in with Hermione and Ron. "Minerva, we've got to speak with you. It seems Potter has been Marriage Bonded…." His voice trailed off and he smiled. "Harry, we didn't expect to find you here. Did you find some way to defeat the bond?"

Harry shook his head. "No, someone jumped me and dumped me here." He looked at Mr. Weasley. "I've got to leave, I need to go back."

Minerva snapped. "Absolutely not, Mister Potter. You are not leaving our sight, again. And you most certainly are not returning to You-Know-Who." Her mind was still reeling from the words 'Marriage Bond,' but she knew on an instinctive level that letting him go back was not the answer.

Harry shot her a pitying look that turned into a wince when the pain flowed through him again. "How do you expect to lead the resistance against someone when you can't even say his name? Besides, the Bond is changing him. He's… different when he's around me."

Hermione's eyebrows crinkled together. "But, Harry, do you know how many muggle women say that about their husbands? Even when the man in question is a murderer?"

Harry smiled. "Yes, but they don't have magic to back it up. Voldemort hasn't made a single attack since I've disappeared. That business with all the Dark Marks going up wasn't him. He was almost angrier about it than I was."

* * *

Snape sat in the small study off of his laboratory having a brandy. He was sprawled across an ancient leather armchair, staring at the fire in his fireplace. His raven colored robes were draped around him – as always – dramatically. It never hurt to stay in practice, even without an audience. 

He still wasn't sure how the Dark Lord had gotten Potter, or even why Harry had seemed content to be here. Still, he congratulated himself on solving the small problem of Potter's capture.

* * *

_So, did I throw you for a loop there? Was that entirely too predictable? Tell me!_


	11. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:**

_**I do not own Harry Potter, but he keeps trying to crawl into my lap.**_

_**My current dream is to actually have a penny or two, as I have none.**_

_**Therefore, you'll have to sell my internal organs to get any cash out of me.**_

_**(Ouch.)**_

* * *

Chapter 10 – Day 4

Minerva was in a towering rage, which was fitting since her office was in the tower. Voldemort was bound to Harry. Lucius was bound to Harry. Once the Bond was completed, the three could draw off each other's magic and use it as needed to sustain themselves. They could feel each other's presence and their emotional state. They could at any moment tell how far away and what direction their spouses were in. And, most serious of all, the dominant one would be able to command any of the other spouses to do anything.

This was intolerable. There was no other word that matched her feelings on the subject. Especially since no one had ever successfully broken a marriage bond without killing all those involved. That was why wizard divorces had been unheard of until a few decades ago when those Bonds were rejected by most of society. Now they had just about the same divorce rate as muggles.

She glared at Fawkes as he sat on his perch. The phoenix seemed completely unruffled by her mood, and even ranting about the problem for the last hour hadn't perturbed him. Her anger faded into contemplation for a moment. _Perhaps Dumbledore complained so much that the bird got used to it?_

She frowned. Fawkes tolerances aside, she still needed to find an answer to Potter's situation. There was no way the Wizarding world would accept his marriage to Voldemort and Malfoy. The only surprise was that Narcissa wasn't already screaming divorce over the whole affair.

She blinked as a thought struck her. Perhaps… Dumbledore hadn't seen the full measure of the prophecy. Perhaps… Harry was supposed to destroy Voldemort by dying himself.

* * *

Lucius stalked through the corridors, barely managing to keep his frustrations hidden. No one knew anything. Even Bella didn't know who did the 'dastardly deed' of kidnapping Potter. He sighed, and then brightened. _ Severus might know something about Harry's disappearance. If nothing else, he can help me figure out who did this. He might even let me borrow some Veritaserum._

With that thought lightening his steps, he went to search for his old acquaintance.

* * *

Scrimgeour walked into the hospital wing just in time to hear the tail end of Potter's sentence. "… got flowers every time he tried to hex me." The children's laughter rang through the ward.

He smiled as he walked up to Potter's bed and wasn't the least bit put out by the flash of irritation in the boy's eyes. "Ah, Potter, I see you're having fun with your friends." He glanced down at them. "Sorry to break up the good times, but the boy and I really must chat alone for a few minutes."

They started to leave until Potter stopped them. "I don't think so, Minister. I said all I had to say to you at the Weasley's. You can take your offer and go fuck yourself."

Scrimgeour blinked at Potter's choice of words. He didn't know the boy had it in him to be quite so colorful with his speech, but the words rolled off his lips like he was born telling the world to go to hell. Granger and the Weasley boy looked a bit surprised, but then they moved to flank Potter as if to give weight to his words.

"Do you really think you can say things like that to the Minister of Magic, child? My position deserves some respect, as I am the duly elected representative of the people."

Potter snorted. "You are the representative of those who think they have power. You are the worst kind of politician. You only want to manipulate people until they give you what you want. Thanks but no thanks." Potter's eyes steeled. "Now get out."

"But, my dear boy…."

Hermione cut him off by raising her voice a little. "Madam Pomfrey, the Minister is upsetting Harry!"

The school nurse bustled in, and Scrimgeour found some small measure of comfort in Potter's cohorts being herded out as well. "This isn't over, Potter."

Harry yawned. "When will you people get a new script?"

Hermione and Ron laughed all the way out of the room. Ron nearly fell over a few times. Hermione was a bit more dignified about the humor, but it still stung Scrimgeour's pride.

Harry, meanwhile, tried to ignore the pain in his chest long enough to sleep.

* * *

Lucius strolled into Snape's study and smiled. "Can I get a few fingers of that, Severus?"

Snape waved towards the bar, and Lucius went to help himself to the brandy. "My dear Severus, we have a bit of a problem…." He settled down in the chair across from the Potions Master. "The Dark Lord, Potter and I have become the unfortunate recipients of a Bonding."

Snape choked on his drink. "You're bound?"

Lucius nodded. "Worse yet, it's a Marriage Bond." He continued as Snape's eyes widened in horror. "There was a bit of an issue with a spell we used when he first arrived, and well…. Here we are.

"Now, someone has kidnapped Potter while our Bond hasn't been completed. We don't know who did it, or where the boy is. However, because we aren't dead he must not be as of yet. You know most of the Death Eaters better than I do, do you have any idea who could have done this and where the young man is?"

Snape's mind was whirling. Bonded, they were _Bonded_. This was the perfect way to rid the world of both Potter and the Dark Lord with one blow. "Have you asked Bellatrix? I know she would be more than happy to take the boy home and play with him for a while."

Lucius shook his head. "Bella can do many things, but she's a horrible liar. She doesn't know. Besides, the Dark Lord ordered her not to touch him."

Severus frowned. "Perhaps one of the Order's peons managed to break in? There are enough werewolves in the building that one more wouldn't be noticed by most of us." He met Lucius' eyes. "Remus Lupin is a werewolf and member of the Order, after all."

Lucius frowned. "It's a possibility. In that case, I will have to find a way to check Hogwarts. I can't imagine them taking Harry to St. Mungo's for treatment of anything. Not with his fame and…" he smirked, "Lord Voldemort on the loose."

Severus couldn't help laughing, even as he was plotting how best to kill one of the three.

* * *

_Voldemort's teeth bit lightly at the back of Harry's neck, resulting in a tickling but pleasurable sensation. His tongue darted out to soothe the spot, and the brunette shuddered. Goosebumps raised across his flesh as Voldemort trailed kisses across his shoulder, seeming to know where every nerve bundle hid. He leaned his head back against his spouse and moaned._

_Lucius took advantage of his open mouth, plundering it mercilessly. His hands slid down and teased Harry's chest, bringing another shudder to the surface. He brushed lightly at Harry's nipples, inciting another moan as Harry broke away for air. _

_Voldemort nuzzled into his neck, and then nipped at his ear. "Harry…"_

"Harry? Harry, wake up."

Harry blinked at Hermione, glad that he was on his side and the sheets were hiding his reaction to the dream. "Wha…?"

She smiled wickedly, eyes twinkling. "You were dreaming, Harry. Though, from your moans I'd say it was a good one. Care to share?"

Blushing furiously, Harry buried his head in his pillow. Hermione laughed. "Seriously, your lunch is here and I've brought your textbooks so we can work on the summer homework together."

Harry sat up and sighed, wondering where Hermione had learned some of the fastest ways on earth to kill anyone's sex drive: embarrassment and homework.

* * *

Lucius watched his Lord's ire rise as he reported Snape's suggestion. Voldemort wasn't happy that he was apparently going to have to find a way into Hogwarts with so little warning. Lucius sighed as pansies crushed against his chest and refused to contemplate the irony of that particular flower. "Perhaps one of his friends could help us, My Lord. I know they're happy to see him, but I think they'll want to insure his safety."

Voldemort stared at the flowers littering the ground around Lucius for a moment and then nodded. "Find one of them to make contact with, quickly. I know all three of us are used to pain, but something in me is… breaking… at the thought of Potter hurting."

Lucius nodded, his face a perfect mask. "It's upsetting me as well, My Lord."

* * *

Ginny Weasley was convinced that no one appreciated her. They never noticed her when she was around unless there was trouble. Even then, she was frequently ignored. Like when Hermione had told her father what had happened to Harry. She'd been right there, but no one had wanted to hear her input on the subject. No one asked her to come to Hogwarts to see him.

So now, here she was, shopping in Diagon Alley with her slightly tipsy and over-medicated mother. The children usually didn't come to this section of the Alley without their parents, as it was mostly groceries and other uninteresting things. Really, what fourth year would want to purchase a head of lettuce or tile stain removers? She tried to ignore the boredom, but it kept her attention like a soldier waving a flag and bellowing his battle cry.

So, her gaze wandered even though she should be making sure her mother didn't buy thirty seven pounds of beets or some similarly wasteful amount of food. Her perusal skipped across most of the shoppers, many with their smaller children wailing in their arms, dismissing them as quickly as she dismissed the ten pounds of oranges her mother put in the carts. _At least we can make fresh squeezed juice._

She almost missed the gesture aimed at her from the shadows, but her Quidditch-honed senses detected it and moved her eyes back into that direction. She glanced once at her mother and quickly walked in that direction, noting the distinctive lock of platinum blonde hair hanging out of the man's hood.

She was careful to keep her voice low. "Lucius Malfoy, I presume."

"Yes, indeed, Miss Weasley. I trust you have heard what has happened to young Mister Potter?"

She nodded, leaning against the wall next to him and letting her eyes watch for anyone noticing them. "What do you want?"

* * *

_Ah, the plot thickens. Or, perhaps, it sickens? Tell me what you think._


	12. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:**

_**I do not own Harry Potter, but he keeps offering to let me collar him.**_

_**I would if I had the money to pay for the collar.**_

_**Therefore, if any lawyer feels like suing me, please provide the collar as part of the settlement.**_

* * *

Chapter 11 – Still Day 4 and Slightly Into Day 5

Harry blinked his eyes as sleep started to retreat once again. The room was dark, with the stars twinkling outside. He sat up and sourly debated whether or not they were laughing at him. He stretched with a groan, and then noticed a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye.

He grabbed his wand from the bedside table and slipped his glasses on. Bringing up his wand, he felt his eyebrows rise. At the tip of the bit of wood was a very startled Ginny Weasley. "What are you doing here?"

She smiled a little as he lowered his wand, and then placed a small silver statue of a snake beside him on the bed. She sat down in the nearby chair. "I ran into Lucius Malfoy in Diagon Alley today. He seemed to think you'd want to come back."

Harry was vaguely aware that his mouth was wide open and a fly could buzz in at any time. Shutting it, he had to try a few times before he could get another word out. "Wh…. Wh… Why would you help Malfoy?"

She leaned forward a little. "Because, I was there when Hermione told my father about what happened. I know what will happen if you don't go back. And if the Order thinks that they can keep you here until all three of you die, they are sadly mistaken."

He blinked at her and looked around. Madam Pomfrey was no where to be seen. "How did you get here?"

Ginny smirked. "I flooed to Rosemerta's and then walked right in the front door." She laughed. "It's rather amazing how easy it was. I'm surprised the Death Eaters haven't killed us all, it was so simple."

Harry sighed. He'd often wondered if the direct approach would get someone into the school. It appeared that it would, indeed, work. "So, how am I supposed to get back there? It's not like I can walk out of here, jump on the Knight Bus, and ask for Voldemort's headquarters."

Ginny looked thoughtful. "I wonder if that would work…." She shook her head. "Seriously, Mr. Malfoy gave me a portkey for you."

Harry groaned at the mention of a portkey. He had hated the things ever since he was kidnapped in fourth year. He started laughing. Voldemort created the portkey that had taken him – unwillingly – to that graveyard in fourth year, and now was expecting him to willingly use the portkey he was providing now. Voldemort spent so many years trying to kill him, and now he wanted to keep him. It was too much.

Ginny chewed on her bottom lip as she eyed Harry, wondering if the bond hadn't driven him mad. It was possible, she supposed. However, he collected himself after a few minutes and – while she wasn't completely reassured – he seemed to be himself. "I don't suppose you told Ron and Hermione about this, did you? Because, the first thing they'd do would be to tell McGonagall, if you did."

Ginny started to speak, when Hermione's voice came up from behind her. "She didn't tell us anything, but that doesn't mean she realizes when she's being followed."

Harry blinked as he looked past Ginny to see both Ron and Hermione standing behind her. "Now, Harry, you know you can't go anywhere without taking us."

Harry didn't realize there was a draft in his mouth until Ginny reached over and shut his jaw for him. He looked blankly at her for a moment and then turned to look at Ron and Hermione again. "Are you insane? You want to come to Voldemort's lair with me?"

Ron winced. "I wouldn't say I _want_ to come with you, mate, but we can't just let you go there alone."

Hermione nodded, her eyes narrowing. "If there's anything to be done about this bond, Harry, I'll have to research all available books. So far, there's nothing in the Hogwarts library about removing a bond."

Harry shook his head. "Even Voldemort and Malfoy say that you can't remove a bond." He looked at Ron. "You should know that, Ron. They said that all purebloods knew that."

Hermione smirked. "But, Harry, all purebloods know that I couldn't possibly be a decent witch, and yet here I sit at the top of our year."

He couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

Voldemort reclined in a seat, watching Lucius pace about. He practically radiated impatience, enhancing Voldemort's own irritation. He was a bit surprised to discover that he didn't want to hex Lucius for irritating him, but wanted to comfort him instead. When Lucius paused to look at him, he realized he was growling. "I need a brandy."

Lucius quickly poured his Lord a drink. Since he was at the bar, anyway, he poured himself one, too. "My Lord, she said she would have him here by now."

"I know, Lucius." Voldemort pondered. Where had he heard the name Ginny Weasley before…? "You don't suppose that this has anything to do with that issue she had during Harry's second year?"

Lucius frowned and thought for a moment. "She seemed most sincere, My Lord. I wouldn't expect a Gryffindor to fake that kind of sincerity. I don't think they're capable of it."

Voldemort sighed. "And, yet, she hid the fact she had my diary for the better part of a year. She knew what it was after the first month or two, I'm sure, and she still managed to conceal her knowledge. It was very foolish and yet somehow very Slytherin."

The two looked up from their conversation, just in time to see four people – instead of one – collapse on the sofa near Voldemort. Harry was in his arms a second or two after landing. Voldemort smiled down at him for a moment and then frowned at the other three. "Did you have to bring all of Hogwarts with you?"

Harry shook his head. "Just the ones who cared more about whether I lived, than they did about you dying."

Voldemort sighed as Harry's head pressed into his chest. "Well, since everyone is wide awake, I suggest we move this to the kitchen." He tried not to feel a pang as Harry let go of him to hug Lucius. At least the constant ache was gone.

He stood, and Hermione and Ron looked at him doubtfully. Voldemort bit back a smirk at the looks on their faces as he moved to assist Harry towards the kitchens. It seemed a cross between disappointment that he didn't hex them and fear that he would. A very amusing expression but, as Harry stumbled, one he didn't have time to dwell on.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey walked into the main ward of the infirmary to check on her patient and let out a scream. Harry's bed was neatly made and, pinned to his pillow, was a piece of parchment. She opened the folded paper and nearly fainted. There, in perfect proportions, was the Dark Mark.

* * *

Ron was fighting not to laugh as Voldemort poured tea for them all. From what little he remembered, it was the duty of the lady in the room to pour out. Briefly, he wondered if that meant that Lucius or Harry topped…. Then he realized what he was thinking and took a big bite of his scone for something else to concentrate on.

Lucius quirked an eyebrow and sighed. He turned to Harry. "I wonder if I could have my snake back."

Hermione wasn't sure why Ron choked, but she was certain that it had to be bad.

Voldemort watched Ginny whack her brother's back with a raised eyebrow. "Perhaps you should try smaller bites, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron nodded and tried not to look sheepish as Harry handed Malfoy his silver statuette. He attempted to ignore Hermione's curious gaze, inching further down in his seat. He could almost feel the amusement radiating from Voldemort, who seemed to know exactly what infantile path his mind had taken.

Harry smiled at the three. "So, nice and homey for an underground kitchen, isn't it?"

Hermione looked around, just then realizing that there were no windows behind the curtains. "We're underground? The chimney comes up somewhere, I'd imagine, so we must be either under a house or it's disguised as a well or something."

Lucius laughed. "It appears to be a natural rock formation, actually. And, there are enough charms and wards to keep the most interested wizard or muggle headed the wrong way for years."

Harry decided to divert the subject. He wasn't going to let his friends know anything that might keep them from going home, and the best way to do that would be to keep them from asking the right questions. He refused to think he was irritated because he hadn't asked that question. "Hermione, notice something missing?"

Hermione glanced around, and shook her head. "Other than the windows, no."

Harry laughed. "There's not a single house elf here." He had to laugh harder at the look of delight on her face – and dismay on Ron's – as Hermione started asking Voldemort if it was possible that SPEW would have his support. He nearly fell out of his chair when Voldemort shot him a look that clearly said he would pay for this later.

* * *

_Probably not up to my usual level, but I've been so worried with other things in my life that I'm surprised that this had time to pop out of my skull… Or perhaps there just wasn't enough room in there for it, anymore? Anyway, reviews are welcome. No, this story is not dead._


	13. Interlude the Second

**Disclaimer:**

_**I do not own either Harry Potter or Lucius Malfoy.**_

_**(Though, if looks could kill Narcissa, that would be quickly remedied.)**_

_**As I do not yet have sole control of the Malfoy fortune,**_

_**your attempts at litigation make a Crumple Horned Snorlack look logical.**_

_**

* * *

**_

Interlude – Day 5

Harry was delighted to find himself singing at a karaoke bar, in downtown London. Hermione was right; this was just the thing to make him feel better. He smiled contentedly as he lapsed from Feelings and into It's Rainin' Men. His voice bounced beautifully off the walls, even the inch thick shag someone had stapled to them couldn't seem to contain it.

He did have to wonder, though. Most of the room seemed to be wearing tight leather, though there were also a few in oddly modified naval uniforms. And at least one person was wearing a collar, complete with leash. He shrugged it off and jumped off the stage. A leather-clad Voldemort stood to meet him and he was quite surprised to find himself dipping the older man in a clichéd kiss.

He set his lover back to his feet, only to notice Ginny in priest's robes on his right. She smirked. "Well, I know you just married the man, Harry. But, really, snogging like that in a church?"

He looked around him, startled to find everyone staring at himself, Voldemort and Malfoy. More astonishing, was that he was the one in the tux. While he had to admit that Voldemort didn't do well in white lace, Malfoy seemed quite lovely in cream. He started to say something, only to come face-to-face with a dour Snape. "Move aside, Potter. I haven't got all day…. Well, Ginny, it is our turn to be married."

Harry blinked at the House Elf on Snape's arm. "You're marrying Snape?"

Dobby stood up straight. "That's Professor Snape, Harry Potter. And he is to be taking good care of Dobby."

Harry blinked as he walked his brides down the rose-strewn aisle. They exited the church, only to find themselves on the Quidditch pitch. There was Lee Jordan, giving commentary. _"There goes Lucy, again: crying at having to wear cream. Will someone remind the moron that he was married before all this happened?... All right, Professor McGonagall…. Anyway, Tommy looks terrible today in an outdated Muggle gown of white lace. What do you have to say about this, Mrs. Potter?"_

Harry's mother took the microphone. _"Really, I get myself killed to save my son – and the Potter family line – and he goes poofter on us. You'd think, with a taste for older men, he'd at least snag Severus. Lord knows, he needs a good shagging."_

Jordan just nods and passes the mike over to James. _"I hate to say this, but I have to agree with Lily…. I mean, Riddle of all people. Look at him: permanent red-eye, corpse-white skin, and a hideous hygiene problem. Sometimes I think that those most respected in this society are the ones whose body odor clears a room in less than thirty seconds."_

Dumbledore grabbed the microphone. _"Indeed, in my day, no one bathed more than once or twice a year. We were much healthier then, with fewer cases of chill-induced pneumonia… At any rate, would you look at Lucy? I've waited thirty years to see him cry like that, and I must say it's worth the wait!... Would anyone care for a lemon drop?"_

Harry blinked at them. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You bastards! Do you mean to tell me that you let things happen like this just to see Lucy cry? I can't believe you!" He turned to his parents, "Especially you! I've spent the last four years turning them into something fairly respectable and you show up at my wedding to laugh at them? You are in so much fucking trouble!"

He started to run up into the stands after them, but found himself in a ballroom. Luna smiled as he glanced up at a dais set to the side. Scrimgeour held aloft a three foot tall crown, his muscles straining with effort. "For the ability to see that which mere mortals cannot, we hereby crown you Queen of the World. We humbly await your command, Your Majesty."

She strode down off the dais, her crown swinging crazily back and forth. She stopped at Harry. Belatedly, he made a clumsy bow. She smiled. "Harry Potter, why aren't you at your wedding?"

He blinked. "I was looking for my parents. They crashed and made horrible comments about my… brides."

She frowned. "Dig the Potters up and hang them."

Scrimgeour opened his mouth a few times before anything came out. "But, Your Majesty, they're dead."

Luna waved a hand as if that didn't matter. "They'll still feel it. When they're finished kicking up a fuss about it, have bits of them posted all over Britain, with signs warning to never upset dear Harry again."

Scrimgeour bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty."

Harry turned around and around, noticing that – aside from Luna and Scrimgeour – everyone in the room was dead. Sirius was standing by the punch bowl, trying not to look guilty for spiking it with three types of liquor. He grabbed his head in his hands and shook. Finally he screamed. "This can't be happening!"

* * *

Voldemort let out an 'oomph' as Harry's elbow connected with his stomach. He grabbed his wand off the bedside table and pointed it at his attacker, only to see Harry sitting straight up and looking like someone had just been murdered in front of him. He set his wand back down and looked at the yawning Lucius. "Harry… Are you all right?"

Harry threw himself into Voldemort's arms. "Tommy, promise me you'll never wear white at our wedding. Lee'll torment Lucy 'cos he can't."

Voldemort and Lucius met each other's eyes. Neither was sure what was stranger, the new nicknames or references to whoever this 'Lee' was. With a sigh, 'Tommy' cuddled Harry closer. "I would never wear white, Harry. You know I much prefer black or green."

With a nod, Harry drifted back to sleep.

ADAD

_I just had to throw in a bit more insanity with a crazy dream. This is why my update is so late… The image hit me and wouldn't let go. It wanted to write itself in!_

_The "This can't be happening!" is an homage to my new favorite video game, Eternal Darkness: Sanity's Requiem. If you like games that make you wonder if you're going nuts, try it. You'll run down a hall, just to have an arm pop off. Then the other arm follows. Then your head is somewhere behind, and blood is dripping off the walls and you're trying to figure out what's attacking you. Then the next thing you know, you're severed at the waist and you hear, "This isn't happening!" or some variation thereof, and you're back at the beginning of the hallway in one piece and wondering if you might have left your brain behind somewhere._

_It's for Game Cube, and it was really cheap at the second hand store. If you can find a disk of it, play it. (That was just one of over sixty insanity events I've found so far.)_


End file.
